4
Laying in bed on my back, earbuds in my ears and an unopened letter in my hand, I listened to my favorite Darkest Days album on repeat. With blistering dual guitars and heavy on the bass, the song was at once aggressive and melodic. It was the lyrics, though, that stood out to me.
The singer's voice, soft and full of longing, crooned words of devotion for the first verse, then deepened into a low growl, dripping with rage for the chorus. The dichotomy of the two, the switch from loving to loathing and back again, sent shivers up my spine.
I extendmy hand
Our fingers touch
Music was supposedto touch you, to make you feel, but not a single musical artist affected me the way Noah Hart did. Whenever I listened to him, my heart always fluttered in a near swoon. His performances on stage were awe-inspiring. His lyrics told a story in such a way that you felt every word, every syllable, in your very bones. The audience didn't just listen to his songs. In those moments, the audiencelivedhis songs.
I ached for the ability to do the same.
I despaired at the knowledge I never would.
I'd never be good enough. I didn't have that kind of talent. I especially didn't have the talent of Noah Hart. Coming from any other person's mouth, the lyrics might have rang false, written solely to capture the attention of a fickle audience.
From this singer's mouth — from the mouth of Noah Hart, lead singer of Darkest Days, I never had any doubt those words came straight from his heart. Straight from his soul.
Cold and damned
You crumble to dust
These werethe exact same feelings I'd been having since I was in my late teens when Darkest Days exploded onto the music scene with their debut album. It had changed my life. It had saved my life.
Now, years later, I was getting the chance to actually work with a member of the band. My favorite member of the band. Noah Hart, the lead singer. The one person who dragged me out of the darkness and into the light. The one person who understood me.
Rolling over onto my stomach, I stared at the letter I held in my hand. My stomach clenched as I turned it over. My name was written in a familiar, delicate handwriting on the outside. I'd lost count of how many times I held this letter, willing myself to open it, but unable to do so. I'd thought, maybe now that I'd gotten this job, I might have the strength to read the words inside. But I could still only stare at it.
Only two remain
In innocent eyes
I grabbedmy purse from my nightstand and shoved the letter inside a small side pocket. Perhaps another day.
But holding that letter had reminded me I'd believed Noah Hart might be someone who understood my pain.
Now I had my doubts. After meeting Noah and seeing what he was like in person, I didn't know if he could understand me at all.
Listening to their album again was my way of getting a better read on Noah. I couldn't reconcile the two men. One was so passionate and romantic and sensual. The other was so caustic and harsh.
I couldn't deny he was still sensual, though. The thoughts that ran through my mind when I was in his presence, the feelings that ran through my body…
I shivered as heat pooled in my core. Of course I'd imagined a dozen scenarios where I would meet Noah Hart. Of course some of those fantasies always ended up with us in bed. What fan of a hot rock star didn't think about stuff like that?
Still, I liked to believe my attraction to Noah was more intellectual. I was attracted to his brain, to the part of him that wrote such heartfelt lyrics, words full of such meaning.
I'll takeyou away
Beyond the lies
What I had found was a completelydifferent person. He resented being forced to work with me. I consoled myself with the fact that he resented working with anyone. It had nothing to do with me in particular.
The fact that I was a fan seemed to be a sticking point. He hadn't seemed able to get over it. I wondered if he'd had bad experiences with fans before. As a rock star he'd obviously encountered fans all the time, during concerts and backstage and at other events. But none of the rumors said anything about Noah being this much of a jerk.
I knew I had to steel myself against it. If I let Noah affect me I'd never be able to work with him. He had been right. The first time I'd met him in person I'd been speechless, an overwhelmed fangirl who hadn't been able to string two words together. I wasn't going to let that part of myself out again. I was going to be professional, even if it killed me.
If Noah didn't kill me first. Somehow I had the feeling that if I didn't impress him, or worse, if I ended up annoying him, I'd be sent packing the exact same way all the other "consultants" had been.
I'd never forgive myself if I had the most perfect job within my grasp and I ended up losing it. I'd never forgive myself if I lost the chance to put my demons to rest. I had to impress him.
I only hoped I was good enough to work with someone like Noah Fucking Hart.
